"So who blew who?" Benny called from the back of the crowd.
"You know I'm saving this load for that pretty ass of yours," Dylan snapped off just as quickly, cupping his junk and throwing a wink in Benny's general direction. "Now kiss your girlfriend goodbye, and be ready for me upstairs in ten minutes, princess. Daddy's on a schedule."
And that bought him even more laughter, smiles and cheer following Dylan as he made for the kitchen, and the booze that lay within.
Oh, nowthere'sa good plan.
Unmoored and drifting, Ashton tried reaching for his usual swagger and brass that carried him through uncertain times, only to find them gone, fucked off to who knows where. Well, fake it till you make it, right?
And if anyone knows how to fake it, it's me.
"Dude!" Ashton snarled, following Dylan into the kitchen as he snagged a strawberry soda from the stack of twelve-packs on the kitchen table, popping the top with a click and a hiss. "What the hell was that?"
"You tell me,dude." Dylan rolled his eyes over the edge of the can, nodding his head at the couple making out in the corner. "You really wanna do this here?"
Ashton opened his mouth, because — for a second? — yeah. Yeah, he fuckingdid, and who the fuck cared who knew, right?
But then he snapped it shut, just as Logan leaned in the doorway like Ashton's enormous, muscled hunk of a guardian angel and —
Wait, what?
Logan said something, but it was hard —not hard, dammit, NOT HARD— difficult to hear him over the ringing in Ashton's ears.
"What?" Ashton blinked in confusion.
Probably something about Oz. It'salwayssomething about Oz.
"Uh, no?" Ashton tried. "Maybe check the porch?"
"Alright, thanks," Logan said absently. Andsee?Ashton had already been forgotten. Again. His eyes landed quickly enough on Dylan's fluorescent pink mohawk, jumping to his face, hisstudded black leather jacket, down to his skinny jeans, then back to Dylan's hair.
Has he always been so cute when he tilts his head like that?
"Do I know you?" Logan asked, and Ashton cursed internally. "Before the lab this morning. You look…familiar."
"Logan, this is Dylan. Dylan, Logan," Ashton told him, gesturing with a carefully crafted offhanded casualness between them.
"You into punk music?" Dylan asked. "Could've seen me at one of the clubs."
Logan's eyes jumped back to Dylan's mohawk as a furious blush lit up his cheeks, and he'd barely choked out a strangled “No,” before he abruptly disappeared.
What in the world…?
"You've got weird friends," Dylan said, and Ashton vaguely nodded, unsure what had just happened to make Logan bolt like that. Was it something Ashton had done?
"Man, you are so twisted up," Dylan said in a low voice. It pulled at Ashton's attention until he finally dragged his eyes away from the door and back to Dylan's smirk. "You don't even know what to do about it, do you?"
Ashton scowled. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about."
"No?" Dylan cocked his head. "Tell you what. I made a very loud promise to princess out there, so people will be watching if I try to head upstairs in the next ten or fifteen minutes. But if you really want to prove yourself? Come find me in the second bedroom upstairs in half an hour."
"What? Why the hell would I do that?"
"You tell me, straight boy," Dylan murmured, and then the damned devilwinked. "You want to show me, to show yourself — hell, to showhim— that you aren't into guys? Thirty minutes, asshole; that's all it'll take for you to get your answer."
Ashton stared at him, at a complete loss for what to evensay.
No, obviously. Followed by a 'Screw you.'
